Let Go, or, Six Step Seduction Plan
by Nagia
Summary: 'This is,' Shalua says, or begins to say and then stops, because Yuffie perches on her desk and then leans in to cover Shalua's mouth with her own. She doesn't think she can hear the 'words my reason for living' again.


**Let Go (or, Six Step Seduction Plan)  
**

* * *

Yuffie is not a person given to planning unless she has to. She plays life by ear, takes things as they come, rolls with the punches and comes up swinging. Just because she's crushing really hard on Shalua does not mean that she has a six-step seduction plan and certainly does not mean that she wants to have one.

It also doesn't mean she needs one.

She whirls into R&D's private lab in the Edge HQ with two giant brown paper sacks under each arm. "Wutaian take-out for the lab monkeys," she calls, grins when the heads of various technicians poke up from papers and microscopes and prototypes. One of them even lifts his gaze from his computer monitor in a feat of normality she's never seen before in an R&D scientist.

If this were a six-step seduction plan, she would be in phase "Distract the monkeys from Shalua." But it's not a six-step seduction plan, because she doesn't make those, and besides, not like Shalua would ever fall for shit like that.

"I'm setting it all over on this table that looks empty. If you've secretly infected it with, like, the T-Virus or something, now would be the time to start screaming 'oh god no you'll kill us all.' …No takers? No takers? Good."

The bags of food settle onto the table and with that, Yuffie marches into Shalua's office, closes and locks the door, and shutters the blinds.

Shalua looks up from her computer for only a moment before she taps a few keys with her good hand. The monitor's graph changes, but apparently that's not enough for Shalua. She growls at the screen, blows her hair out of her face with a harsh sigh.

And that does it. It's like a non-fatal brain aneurysm, it's like every single drop of concern and friendship and hurt at being constantly pushed away has just congealed at once, then boiled over. She can almost hear the steam whistling out her ears.

She finds herself almost—but not quite—imitating Cid.

"Hate to say this, I know I don't have any right to, but whatever the hell that is, you need to let it go."

"This is," Shalua says, or begins to say and then stops, because Yuffie perches on her desk and then leans in to cover Shalua's mouth with her own. She doesn't think she can hear the words _my reason for living_ again. (Okay, maybe it's a two-step seduction plan. That's still not six.)

"I'm not telling you to give up," she whispers against Shalua's lips, once she's broken the kiss. "I know she's important to you. But you do this to yourself every day. All the time."

And down that road, she knows, lies crazyness. Single-mindedness is one thing. It leads to results. Obsession's another thing entirely. It leads to putting Aerith and Red in a big glass box and telling them to breed.

"She's all I have," Shalua says and Yuffie jerks back, rolls her head back on her neck and closes her eyes so Shalua doesn't have to see how much that one hurt.

It stings like she's been backhanded.

"You idiot," she says when her voice won't come out thick or wet, "you have me. And Reeve. And all those loyal lab monkeys out there."

But they're not the person that Shalua wants. Yuffie does what she always does, throws away the hurt and lives in the moment. She buries her hands in Shalua's red hair—it's still a novelty to her—and leans forward again.

Shalua didn't exactly lean away the first time, but this time, she actually moves into the kiss. Shalua's mouth opens; her good arm reaches around to dig into Yuffie's hair. Her fingers tighten almost painfully on it as she pulls Yuffie down closer.

It's a good kiss. Shalua knows what she's doing, she realizes, dimly, over the throbbing, pulsing heat pooling low in her stomach.

It gets even better when Shalua lets go of her hair to make a fist in the tight fabric at the bottom of Yuffie's shirt. "Arms up," she says through a barely-broken kiss.

Yuffie obeys, impressed when Shalua removes the shirt with one quick, efficient yank.

"No bra?" Shalua's voice is just a little breathless.

She grins. "No point. My turn now."

First off with the labcoat, which Yuffie crumples up and sends sailing across the room in a very deliberate message. Then the shirt. It's quite easy to remove and Yuffie's gaze snakes to Shalua's left arm. That's probably why, she thinks.

"No bra?" Yuffie tilts her head.

It's a bit of a surprise, really. Shalua's figure is not boyish. She's a combination of hell on two legs and sex on wheels, with even less modesty than Tifa had back during Crisis.

"You try hooking a bra with one good hand," Shalua says, quietly, and Yuffie feels both sad for Shalua and like she only ever opens her mouth to switch feet.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"I'll let you make it up to me." There's an amused glint in Shalua's eye. Her expression is mischievous.

Yuffie carefully picks her jaw off the floor, reattaches it to her mouth, and then figures out that it's hard to kiss somebody when you're smiling, but that doesn't mean it isn't fun to try. Her hand roves along Shalua's flat stomach. She walks her fingers upwards, then cups of one Shalua's breasts in her hand. It's soft, warm, heavy in her hand; she traces her thumb along the nipple and smiles wider against Shalua's mouth when the scientist gasps into her kiss. She presses her tongue against Shalua's, teasing that hardened nipple, flicking it. Pinches it gently.

Shalua's good hand rakes down her back, then unbuttons Yuffie's shorts.

"Aw, no fair," Yuffie says and Shalua's reply is a rough, sexy, rasping laugh.

Then Shalua drags her mouth away from Yuffie's, which also isn't fair. She tugs on Yuffie's shorts. Yuffie lets her, closes her eyes when Shalua leans forward and presses her face between her legs.

The first thing she notices is heat. After that, it's wetness and skill. She throws her head back at the sensation of warmth in the perfect spot. Shalua's good enough that she doesn't give Yuffie exactly what she needs immediately; she toys with her, teases her. Yuffie squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as it becomes more and more difficult to tell where Shalua's mouth ends and her own body begins.

That's when it starts. The warmth, the throbbing, the rocking sensation. Yuffie gives in, slides under, lets it carry her. Her hands grip the back of Shalua's head, twist in her hair as the rest of her body shudders and contracts.

When it's over, when she's calmer or at least able to think, she pulls Shalua's head up, pulls her in for a kiss. She can taste herself on Shalua's lips, in Shalua's mouth. She didn't really expect it to, but it only makes things seem even better.

Yuffie pushes the chair back from the desk, drops to her knees on the office floor in what's partly a show of acrobatic skill and partly a purely functional position shift. She pushes up Shalua's skirt—not that she has to push it up by much; hot _damn_ does Shalua not have any modesty. Is it even safe to wear skirts that short around prototype weapons?—and pulls aside the thin cloth of Shalua's underwear.

She smiles at the noise Shalua makes when Yuffie puffs a breath against her. She parts her with her fingers, gently, deliberately breathing out in just the right place as she does so. It's hard not to grin as Shalua squirms in her seat. It's even harder not to grin when Shalua fists her hand in her hair and tugs her in closer.

Yuffie allows it, buries herself deeper. She traces her nails along Shalua's legs, but her nails are short, blunt, and Shalua doesn't really seem to notice. She tilts her head back, then slides up along Shalua's body, capturing the older woman's mouth in a kiss. Her hand sneaks back down, teases the wetness, the warmth, between her legs.

Shalua gasps against her. She makes a noise, low in her throat, when Yuffie's fingers slide inside her, first one, then two. Yuffie circles her thumb around Shalua's clit, teasing, testing, until Shalua leans over and bites her shoulder.

"Aw, come on, no need to bite," she says and doesn't mean it, lets it show in her voice that she doesn't mean it at all.

"Don't lie," Shalua gasps as Yuffie stops teasing and presses her thumb against her clit. She takes in a breath, lets it out quickly, then takes another. "You—ah!—_like_ it when I bite."

"Yeah," Yuffie says, before she pulls Shalua in for another kiss, "I do."

She begins to move her fingers in and out, slowly at first, then more quickly. Shalua lets out faint, quiet gasps in time with her movements and Yuffie smiles against the other woman's lips. She watches Shalua shiver, watches her throw her head back, her neck arching gracefully. She presses against the other woman, kisses her again.

"Let go," she whispers to Shalua without pulling her mouth away. "Just let it happen."

Shalua opens her eyes to look at her. Her expression is serene, but there's a wry twist to her eyebrow that tells Yuffie she's in for some interesting questions later tonight.

Pressed so tightly up against her, Yuffie feels the spasms that run through the scientist's body, feels the woman contract around her fingers. She keeps Shalua's mouth busy with kisses, holds her until she relaxes.

Shalua's arms wrap around her, one hand mussing her hair for just a moment.

"Tell me you feel better now?"

Shalua makes an amused noise, almost like a snort, though more dignified and not in her nose. It isn't the raspy laugh Yuffie loves to hear, but she finds herself liking that noise. It's good when the scientist lets go, lets herself be something other than a sister with a mission. Let's herself laugh.

One of Yuffie's newest private goals is to make sure it happens more often.


End file.
